


Stratigraphic Context

by Aderam



Category: Doom (2005)
Genre: Gen, Yuletide 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aderam/pseuds/Aderam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stratigraphy is the layers of soil which build up over time. Each layer, or context, contains artefacts and evidence which allow us to learn about the past.</p><p>Sam and John find new contexts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stratigraphic Context

**Author's Note:**

  * For [victoria_p (musesfool)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/gifts).



> I had a really hard time figuring out what to write this year. For some reason the story only managed to come together when I remembered that Sam is an archaeologist. What that actually has to do with the story I managed to write, I have no idea.
> 
> Hope you like it victoria_p!

Sam woke up with a start, sitting up in the bed almost before she was fully conscious. She was still in a UAC facility, the design following the company’s style guide, but something was different. They weren’t on emergency power and she could just make out the noise of people moving around in the hallway, the unconcerned sounds of staff going about their business. 

A muffled voice churned out something over a loudspeaker and Sam realized where she was just as the door to her room opened and a large man in scrubs entered. It was the UAC hospital in Nevada. Sam had been there many times for mandatory pre- and post-Ark travel medicals. She shifted uneasily and hissed as the movement shot pain down her right thigh and knee.

“What happened?” she asked before the man – a nurse probably – could say anything. “Where’s John?”

~~~

“Has he said anything yet?” Sam asked, watching her brother through the observation room’s one-way glass. The room was pristine white and shiny chrome like the labs on Olduvai, like the hospital in which she’d awoken, like so many UAC labs she’d worked in over the last decade. She was used to seeing artefacts and skeletal remains from various dig sites in rooms such as this, but she’d never once thought she’d see a live person, let alone John, as the subject.

“Not yet,” Dr. Jones – no first name offered – replied. She was a company drone, a study in forced blandness, and Sam had worked with and for many of her kind. After finishing grad school on a diet of ramen and vitamin supplements, dealing with the drones had seemed a small price to pay for funding and the opportunity to return to Olduvai. “He refuses to speak to anyone but you.”

Now, sometime between her own interrogations and her superiors’ concern for the research data over and above the lives of the researchers themselves, Sam found she’d lost the stomach for company policy. “I still don’t know how he managed to get us out,” she lied.

“I know,” Dr. Jones said a note of calculated understanding colouring her voice. “And we’re all hoping he’ll open up to you. Lord knows he wouldn’t say a thing to Agent Williams.”

“I’ll try,” Sam said, using her faked reluctance to hide her instinctive shudder at the mention of one of UAC’s interrogators. “But you realize we hadn’t spoken in ten years before he showed up with the Marines.”

“I understand,” Jones allowed. “But it’s worth a try. Whenever you’re ready.”

Sam looked at John again. He was no longer covered in blood and someone had given him some blue sweatpants and a white t-shirt to change into. He sat stiffly in the chair, arms resting on his thighs instead of on the metal table in front of him. He reminded her of a coiled spring, ready to snap. At Olduvai she’d told him that she knew him, but the man sitting before her was different from the awkward angry teenager who’d left to join the marines. Sam straightened her shoulders and slipped her hand into her pocket. Her hand curled around the syringe she’d hidden there earlier and it strengthened her resolve. She nodded once at Dr. Jones and left the observation room, unobtrusively locking the door behind her.

There was only one guard in the hallway, UAC not RRTS, but heavily armed nonetheless. Sam smiled nervously at him while he swiped his key-card and used the palm scanner to open the door.

“I’ll be right outside,” he assured her, his concern almost sweet as he turned his back to open the door.

“Thanks,” Sam said and she pulled the syringe out of her pocket and jabbed him in the neck.

He went down quickly, eyes rolling back in his head and his long legs falling into the door and preventing it from closing. There was no time to spare so Sam stooped to grab his guns, the big one in his hands and the handguns in his thigh and ankle holsters. Sam hoped John knew how to use them because otherwise this rescue would be over in a matter of minutes. She stepped over the guard and into the room.

“Sam,” John said, relief and surprise and worry painted across his features in broad strokes as if his face was out of practice making expressions.

“Shut up,” Sam replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the chair. “You saved my ass, I’m just repaying the favour. We’ve got to get out of here.”

She couldn’t see or hear Dr. Jones’ reaction behind the mirrored glass, but she didn’t really have to when the internal alarms started blaring.

“What’s the plan?” John asked, redirecting the muzzle of the large gun towards the floor and pointedly taking it from Sam’s hand.

“Run for the nearest exit,” Sam offered ruefully, leading the way into the hallway. She could hear John’s huff of disapproval behind her even over the sounds of people running in their direction.

“I don’t think I like your plan,” he replied.

But he followed her, careful to keep himself between her and any UAC bullets.

~~~

The sun was setting over the trees when Sam found John, standing on the deck ignoring the beer in his hand. The cabin was old, barely connected to the net and isolated enough to be a good hiding spot. John was staring into the ravine his expression dark.

Sam walked over to her brother and leaned into his space, ignoring the still damp dish towel she’d tossed over her shoulder before leaving the kitchen. John sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders without looking away from the view.

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if it weren’t us?” Sam asked after a moment of shared silence.

“What do you mean?” John replied gruffly.

“If you hadn’t joined the marines, and I hadn’t become an archaeologist,” Sam clarified slowly, watching the natural beauty of the sunset instead of her brother’s face. “Would Olduvai have still happened? Would it have been different? Or would they have still figured out how to synthesize C24 even without my research?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” John said firmly.

“Would any of the marines have listened? Would anyone else have figured out what happened?”

“Would Sarge have broken the quarantine and started the zombie apocalypse?” John rolled his eyes.

“Exactly my point,” Sam said and elbowed John in the ribs. “If we’d opened a bakery instead...”

“A bakery?”

“Or something,” Sam continued, undaunted. “Everything could have been completely different.”

“Sam,” John said, squeezing her shoulder. “It happened,” he continued quietly, his voice a balm to her insecurities. “You and I made choices, and they weren’t all good. Maybe there’s a parallel universe where we made different ones. But we’re not in that universe. Maybe they’ve got it better and Sarge didn’t kill everyone else at Olduvai. But maybe we’re still not talking to each other and UAC is still experimenting with C24.”

Sam took a deep breath and wrapped both arms around John’s waist.

“I’m sorry I injected you with C24 even though you didn’t want me to,” she said.

John pulled her in for a proper hug tucking her head under his chin. “I’m glad you didn’t listen,” he said as the last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon.


End file.
